


Breakfast!

by dreadwoof



Series: Archaeology AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorian would like the crusts removed fight me, Inquisitor Twins, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, archeology au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwoof/pseuds/dreadwoof
Summary: Two people find eachother in a bed. A dusty excerpt from mine and teryster's Archaeology AU, featuring the illustrious Dorian Pavus and the recently-woken up Aien Lavellan, mysteriously in the same room.





	Breakfast!

**Author's Note:**

> check out http://teryster.tumblr.com/tagged/arch-au for the juicy art portion of this~ (I hope the very scene here will be soon posted on her blog!)

Mornings didn't usually smell this tasty, Aien thought.

 

“That's because they don't.” A groan from beside him. “Usually it's a charming mix of bad breath and sexual regret. I instead made breakfast.”

 

Fear jolts Aien’s weary frame bolt upright.

 

"Who read my mind? How?"

 

A snort. “Goodness, you are awake.” A pillow falls from the corner of his eye, and he sees a hand reach out towards it. “And you talk during sleep. But only your deepest, darkest desires, apparently. Have you not noticed?"

 

The question is rhetorical but he shakes his head nonetheless. He shakes his head until it begins working and he realizes where he is, what he is, and how weird this is.

 

Very weird.

 

Dorian is next to him, the bone specialist. Head buried in his sister's pillow, eyes blinking blearily. A forlorn smile on his face.

 

"You made breakfast… and fell asleep?" Aien asks, though that last part shouldn't have been said so high pitched. He stares, vaguely horrified and curious as something under the sheets Dorian's wrapped in wiggles.

 

"Sis?"

 

The bone specialist chokes, revealing his arms from under the sheets. Bare arms that made Aien's morning into midnight, all senses of weight evaporating as the urge to go back to bed and have them in his view washes over him.

 

Dorian raises up his palms.

 

"You've caught me, I am secretly in a steamy affair with your sister," the man bites, sarcasm bleeding out of his sour look. "Do not tell my father though, for he’ll dance with joy."

 

The world spins. Aien should laugh. He can hear Miko’s ‘ _ laugh, moron _ ’, but the thought of ...

 

"A simple joke to wake you, Aien," Dorian’s voice breaks through the awkwardness, lacking the harshness now. "Would you go back to bed and mumble about goats in that endearing way of yours? I like you better."

 

Aien thinks the option over. He doesn't want to go back into bed. He doesn't want to go back because it will be trouble, and he has never dealt good with trouble. He wants to eat. Forget. Then eat some more.

 

"What happened last night? Surely you—"

 

"Drunk,” Dorian interrupts. “Drunk out of our minds by a sodding brew your sister and I thought was as potent as a thimble of grass." He twists an arm up to brush his face, a rueful look sparking his eyes as he twists the moustache between his fingers. "It was my fault, you should know. I had it, gifted by a former mentor of mine…"

 

"Alexius."

 

Surprise shines in the bone expert’s expression, just for a second. Then, it fades. "Of course you know of him."

 

Aien was asked to be under his tutelage. "You mentioned him before."

 

"Ah, well," an uncomfortable sigh, as if the name was never to be shared. "Shortened summary? We thought we were time-traveling and that the funeral director by the street was orchestrating the world’s demise. She would want to tell you the rest."

 

"She would, but she isn't here right now," Aien says, holds a grip on Dorian's gaze. "Thankfully."

 

A wide smile appears on Dorian's face, making Aien unconsciously mirror it. His mind lists to references if he has ever seen a joy so genuine.

 

"Thankfully," he repeats, for the first time dark eyes flitting down to the apple in his hands. "Thankfully I’m starving as a mad bull, so without further ado, let's have at it."

 

Aien clears his throat and kicks himself onto his feet, promptly running for a shirt. Dorian claps his hands, though for what reason he doesn’t see. He leaps into the clothes rack and in the end he decides for a sweater.

 

He grabs the first thing he sees from the table and bites. Using the hems of the wool, he wipes the jam from his mouth.

 

"Is it a matching sweater?"

 

He chews, blinking at Dorian cutting up the crusts of his bread. "Hm?"

 

"I'm asking if it comes in pairs, dear man. Twinsy pairs."

 

Oh. He nods, mouthful of berry jam. "The Keeper—a parting gift she made."

 

His cheeks start warming at the studious look he receives. Embarrassment floods into body. He shouldn't have worn this, it was worse—

 

"It suits your eyes." A cultured laugh and it has Aien turning, blinking at the crooked grin glinting at him through the faint morning light. "Very sappy of me, but true. Don't tell anyone."

 

He won’t.

 

"I won’t."

 

A purr comes from behind him. Then an awful, awful yawn that makes his lungs strain to breathe.

 

He does not want to go to bed.

 

Not yours, clearly.

 

"Shut up."

 

"Beg your pardon?"

 

He freezes. "No, I wasn't… that wasn't directed at you."

 

A cheerful ‘well then!’ as he feels the stare burning at his back. Which is also bare and so very, very vulnerable.

 

He calls for his sister, a strained yell.

 

"Don't bother," A hand flies into his vision, slithers past him to grab an apple. His ears twitch at the soft bite. "Left early, the little traitor."

 

She really is a traitor, Aien agrees, as Dorian says that last part right beside his ear. He looks through their little apartment, still eating. No hint of her or where she slept.

 

Then he sneaks a glance at Dorian, face flushed. Wonders if the rest of the day will be as delicious.

 


End file.
